


Love Is For The Young

by HK44



Series: Brokes, Pennsylvania [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Black Male Character, Fluff, Gay male characters, Getting Together, Love Confessions, M/M, One Shot, beginning of a wonderful relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-05
Updated: 2015-02-05
Packaged: 2018-03-10 14:51:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3294425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HK44/pseuds/HK44
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fish froze, eyes going bug-wide. Ben choked on his next string of sentences, unable to pull his last words back. Shame bubbled up from the pit of his stomach. He dropped Fish’s hand, eyes downcast. His metal hand still felt warm against his real one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Is For The Young

"Brokes!"

Ben squinted at him. "What?"

"Brokes," Fish repeated, grabbing Ben's face. "We go to Brokes!"

"Um." Ben blinked, glancing around the room before panning his gaze back to the energetic boy in front of him. "I don't- What?"

Falling back on the bed, Fish drummed his fingers against his side and said, "You said you wanted to go somewhere."

Ben shifted around. "Yeah," he said, nodding, "but somewhere in the city. Not fifty million miles outside it. I mean, I just got here."

"Come on," Fish protested, jerking up and leaning deep into Ben's side, eyes wide, his chin resting on the other's shoulder. "You always said you wanted to go to Brokes."

Ben's resolve lessened. He picked up a strand of Fish’s blue hair. "Yeah, but why do you want to go?"

“Mish my sister,” Fish mumbled into Ben’s sleeve. “Shesh not cumin’ hum.”

Once again, Fish’s stupid Canadian accent made it hard to understand a thing he was saying. Biting his lip, Ben rubbed his hands together, pushing Fish down and lying into him before asking, “You miss Alice.”

Fish nodded.

“Alright.” Ben ran some schematics in his head. “I don’t think I can build us anything before Christmas and neither of us can drive and we should probably see if Peter and Ma-”

“Ben.”

Ben closed his eyes and too a breath, exhaling, “Yes?”

“Relax.” Fish’s pale hands curled around Ben’s dark once. “Everything’s already been planned for, like, three weeks.”

Blinking in confusion, Ben furrowed his brows, finding comfort in the contrast of their skin. “What?”

“My mom had an extra ticket in case you wanted to come.” Fish shrugged, cheeks tinged pink. “Mary and Peter are flying in to Brokes in two days.”

“And if I didn’t want to go?” Ben asked, bewildered.

“Then,” Fish began, flushing red to the tips of his ears, “I was going to stay here with you and my grandma and my mom was going to give the tickets to a couple of her friends instead.”

Ben gave a shaky laugh, Fish’s hands warm in his. He nodded, a little more than eager. “Okay. I’ll go.”

Fish grinned.

Two days later and they were standing at the luggage carousel. Despite the lack of people, it was still loud, people cheering on the Specials performing near the doors. A burning order fluttered overhead as a stream of fire sailed past them. Ben stuck his right hand in the air. When it passed through his hand, confirming for the two hundredth and eighty-third time that, yes, the metal was fireproof, he smiled at Fish. Fish grinned back.

“Come on,” he crowed, plucking Ben’s suitcase off the rack. “Let’s go!”

Stumbling after him, Ben frowned and said, “Shouldn’t we wait f-”

“Nope!” Fish charged ahead, slinging his own bag over his shoulder, handing Ben his suitcase and grabbing his hand, tugging him along with the enthusiasm of a month old puppy. “My mom can find us.”

“She’s not a bloodhound like you,” Ben protested, jogging to keep up with Fish’s long strides. “Slow down!”

“You’re from Africa!” Fish pulled Ben over to a Dunkin’ Donuts, practically drooling.

Ben fought the urge to laugh. “Contrary to popular belief, Africans don’t all walk everywhere. My mom has a car. She has two, actually.”

“Then I’m a racist,” Fish said, eying the menu with a hungry glint in his eyes.

The words tumbled out of Ben’s mouth like wet soap. “How are we supposed to date if you’re a racist then?”

Fish froze, eyes going bug-wide. Ben choked on his nest string of sentences, unable to pull his last words back. Shame bubbled up from the pit of his stomach. He dropped Fish’s hand, eyes downcast. His metal hand still felt warm against his real one.

“Fish, I didn’t-”

With the ferocity of a lioness, Fish grabbed him by his face, dragging him up to the very tips of his feet. Ben had to grip Fish’s shoulder as Fish pressed their lips together. It was a closed mouth kiss, nothing special, nothing unique, but it still sent Ben’s heart and blood racing, his head swooning. Fish’s lips were dry and rough. He figured his were no different. There was a faint scent of peppermint, wafting down from Fish’s face.

Plopping down to the balls of his feet, Ben flushed, thankful for the darkness of his skin. “Uh, that was, I mean, it was-” He exhaled shakily. “-that was  awesome .”

Fish’s smile was brighter than the sun. “Really? I’m sorry.”

Laughing, Ben curled into Fish’s side. “You are so  Canadian .”

“Does this mean we’re going out now?” Fish asked, eyes wide.

Ben chewed his lip, stroking the side of Fish’s face. He swept his thumb over his cheeks. Swiping his lips with his tongue quickly, he tasted the remains of peppermint. He nodded, liking the way Fish’s whole body seemed to swell with pride and excitement.

“Yeah. We are.”  


**Author's Note:**

> Ben has a prosthetic arm. I advanced prosthetics about twenty years ahead of its time so that prosthetics work like regular limbs, except you can't feel what you touch with it.  
> Check out this http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2014/12/18/prosthetic-arms-thoughts_n_6348026.html?ncid=edlinkushpmg00000030 for more information on the advancement of prosthetic limbs.
> 
> As usual, Beta will fix whatever I did wrong.


End file.
